


Three Days Ago I Hated You

by occasionallywritesthings



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionallywritesthings/pseuds/occasionallywritesthings
Summary: What do you do when you're faced with deportation? Make your assistant marry you. Faced with deportation to her native Canada, Aubrey Posen enlists the help of her assistant, Beca, so that she can keep her high-ranking job. With a promise to be promoted to Producer by the end of their shenanigans, Beca agrees.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the mitchsen proposal au no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of/inspired by the movie 'the proposal'.

Working for Aubrey Posen is about as relaxing as trying to walk a tightrope with zero experience and hundred foot drop below you: it wasn’t. And that’s why Beca is currently sprinting across New York City with her scarf fluttering wildly in the wind, threatening to whack people in the face every two steps.  


“Outta the way! Outta the way! Outta the way!”

_Hey, watch it!_

“ _You_ watch it, _bro_!”

Beca is sure she just got flipped off but she’s only got 10 minutes to make it to the office so she could give a fuck about some snubbed stranger and settles for throwing a middle finger up behind her, eyes poised on the Starbucks just across the street. She strains herself, daring her legs to move faster but there’s only so much you could do being 5’2”. Fuck you, genetics. Also, fuck you, past Beca, for not investing in more batteries so your actual fucking alarm clock can wake you up like a normal person.

Beca practically bursts through the doors of the Starbucks and her heart immediately deflates at the sight of a long line that starts two feet from the fucking _door_. But then she hears it—

“Beca, hey!”

There’s hope! Brazenly, she zigzags where she can find spaces in the queue till she’s up front, and if an internal organ could fucking sing, her heart just did a high note. 

“Here you go, cutie. Your regular lattes.”

A tray with two Venti cups is being handed over to her and because of that, she can completely disregard how much she fucking _hates_ being called ‘cutie’ because Stacie from Starbucks literally just made the difference for her when it comes to Job and No Job.

“Thank you. Saved my life. Literally. Thanks.”

She can’t say it enough but that’ll have to do because her allotted time is dwindling and she’s off again before she knows it, leaving busty Stacie from Starbucks a fucking outline of her body because she was out of that place _so fast_ that the Roadrunner would feel threatened.

* * *

She made it. Thank Christ.

“Cutting it close,” the receptionist Amy shoots as Beca speed-walks past.

“One of those mornings,” she quips, lips in a thin line. 

And you know that thing people say? Just when you think you’ve made it, some bullshit has to happen because you’re never allowed to be happy or have things work out? Okay, probably not an actual thing people say but honest-to-fuck _someone_ doesn’t want Beca to have a good Thursday because—

“ _SWEET JE-SUS_ —”

Her chest is hot. And wet.

The mail dude, Dax, has his mouth in an O-shape. Beca could kill him. Fucking actually.

He sputters an apology, tripping over his feet as he backs the cart away and wheels himself and the cart out of Beca’s line of site.

Beca’s co-worker, Cynthia Rose, sees the young woman frozen in place and shakes her head at the mess.

“Rub some dirt in it, girl. Ya got—” She looks at her watch. “—3 minutes.”

Fuck. And Beca’s taking it. With the one cup she still has upright, she heads down the line of cubicles and makes a sharp turn to the right, into her friend Jesse’s cubicle.

He’s mid-chuckle over a cat video that he pauses immediately once he sees her.

“Wow,” is all he has to say.

“I have 2 tickets to that stupid basketball team you like so much this weekend. It’s yours if you give me the shirt off of your back. You have 5 seconds to decide. 5-4-3-2—”

“Okay! Okay, yeah, here here—”

* * *

She’s readjusting the way Jesse’s obviously larger shirt fits on her body from her reflection on Aubrey’s floor-to-ceiling windows. She doesn’t commonly wearing button-ups, much more ones this big, so it’s a stretch to make it look like a new “fashion statement” she decided to pull today. She borrowed one of those big belts from an intern to cinch it or whatever but it still looks weird.

 _Click, click, click_ , _click._

She’d know the sound of those heels _anywhere_.

Beca’s quick to whip around and grab the Venti cup from off of the table, making it seem as though she’s been patiently waiting for Aubrey just as the woman approaches… obviously with her head down while typing something on her phone because she’s Aubrey Posen and apparently That Busy _all the time_.

Beca takes a deep breath and presses her lips together for the amount of ass-kissery she has to pull for the next 10 to 12 hours. (Yes, Aubrey makes her work overtime. She’s just learned to live with it.)

“Morning, boss. You got a conference call in 30,” Beca announces.

She holds out the cup – still warm, thank God – that Aubrey takes without looking up.

“Yes. About the marketing for the new act, I know.”

Beca goes in with information she hopes Aubrey doesn’t already know. “Staff meeting at 9?”

Aubrey just barely nods in acknowledgement of that. She sets her handbag down beside her desk and gets on her chair. Beca goes to move Aubrey’s stack of work for the day from the side of the table to the center, just like she knows the woman prefers once she’s seated.

(Posen has a thing about already having something in the middle of her desk before she sits down. Apparently, it makes her feel like the space is cluttered or some shit and like she didn’t finish her work from yesterday, so basically they have to go through this motion everyday –  moving the stack from the right of her desk to the middle of it once Supreme Leader Posen has sat her pristine ass down.)

“Did you call— what’s her name? With the Suburban Mom haircut?”

“Alice. Yes. I told her if she doesn’t get her new demo in on time, you won’t give her a release date.”

Aubrey nods, pleased with that, as she goes through the stack of demos and files in front of her.

“Also, your immigration lawyer called and he said it’s super important, imperative actually, that you—“

In a single breath that Beca should honestly be used to be now, Aubrey tells her to: “Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Also, contact PR and tell them to draft up a press release. Benji’s doing _Ellen_.”

Benji? Benji Applebaum? Known nervous-wreck and extreme introvert?

“Wow. Nicely done,” Beca comments – and she means that. 

Benji’s got a great voice but he’s hell to work with when it comes to publicity because he becomes a blubbering mess and has honestly said at least 15 embarrassing things too many the last time he was on a talk show. It’s why he hasn’t been on one in almost two years.

“If I want your praise, I’ll ask for it,” Aubrey responds, grabbing her coffee off of the table to take a sip.

And it’s then – before Beca can even make it out of the room to roll her eyes in peace – that she hears a string of words posed into a question she never hoped to hear. Especially from the mouth of her boss.

“Beca, who is… _Stacie_? And why does she want me to ‘ _call her x-o x-o_ ’..?”

_Shit._

Stopped in her tracks, she turns. 

“Funny story actually, uh… that’s… that was originally my cup,” she forces herself to admit, fighting the heat that’s building in her cheeks.

“And I’m drinking your coffee… why?” 

Aubrey’s brow lifts.

Beca wets her lips _._

“Yours spilled?” She reveals. Because there’s no point fucking lying to Aubrey.

(She lied to her about the type of tampons a convenience store had in stock once and of course Aubrey found out and made Beca admit that they weren’t in fact out of Aubrey’s preferred tampon brand and that _Beca_ hadjust grabbed the wrong one in haste. It was 2-fucking-AM!)

Aubrey nods – slowly, in a way that’s entirely intimidating and mocking at the same time – before taking a lengthy sip that leaves Beca enough time to dart her eyes from one corner of the office to the other.

“So _you_ drink… unsweetened cinnamon light soy lattes?” Her boss continues, clearly setting her up to be terribly, _terribly_ embarrassed. 

Beca’s too far into this to not just commit. ‘Die with the lie’ as Jesse likes to say from that one Will Smith movie he made her watch that she doesn’t totally hate.

_Commit to the fucking lie, Mitchell._

“I do,” she answers. And not a beat later, she continues with, “It’s like Christmas in a cup.” As the cherry on top because she’s an asshole who clearly hates herself and wants to suffer to the worst degree possible before dying.

And because Aubrey doesn’t have a _soul_ and considers this type of thing entertaining, she prods more. 

“Is that a coincidence?”

Beca’s not a fucking quitter so _she_ goes: 

“Totally, it is. I mean, I wouldn’t possibly, you know, drink the same kind of coffee that you drink in case yours spilled because that would be… _pathetic_ and we’re not… that in this room, no sir…” Her words die on her tongue, eyes finding the ground.

God, hearing it all out loud from her own mouth was something else. She could practically hear the newsboy announcing it: _“Extra extra! Fresh Embarrassment! Straight from the microwave at High heat!”_

The phone rings and she’s quick to cut it off before it sounds a third time. “Aubrey Posen’s office.”

From the corner of her eyes, Beca sees Aubrey take another sip. If she knew any better, that bitch was probably smiling behind the cup. 

God, she hates her life.

She puts the phone down. 

“Why are we going to Bumper’s office?”

Aubrey simply tsks, tilting her head to the side.

And Beca sighs because she _knows_ that tsk and that head tilt. Someone’s getting executed today and _she’s_ going to have to clean up the blood.

* * *

They’re walking down the hall to Bumper Allen’s office. Aubrey has her unsweetened cinnamon light soy latte (Beca couldn’t erase the order from her memory even if she tried) and Beca has her small notebook that Aubrey makes her carry around everywhere (because “if you’re not writing it down, you’re going to forget it”). Beca decides to make the most of the 10 seconds of calm before the storm.

“Hey, so did you by any chance listen to that demo I suggested to you? Emily Junk?”

“I did.”

“And..?” Beca hopes.

“It’s fine. Nothing special,” Aubrey shoots her down.

She sighs. “Can I say something?”

“No.”

Beca does anyway.

“Look, I’ve gone through _thousands_ of demos, and this is the only one I’ve ever given you. She’s got an incredible voice and she writes all of her songs. Did you listen to her little speeches before the tracks? I really think she’s someone the world could fall in love with. She _cares_ about the music, which is a lot more than what we can say about people who come in here just wanting fame. If not for the talent, then at least consider the publicity she could bring in. People _love_ that dorky shit—”

Aubrey stops abruptly to side-eye Beca for swearing.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.

And coincidentally, because everything works out for Aubrey Posen, she had conveniently stopped right in front of Bumper Allen’s door, so her chiding mentor moment transitions to a work moment pretty seamlessly, stepping into aforementioned office after two curt raps on the door.

_Aubrey! Hey!_

“Here we go…” Beca mutters under her breath. She shuts the door behind her after they walk in. 

(No one needs to hear this.)

“Our fearless leader and her liege… How’s it going today, ladies?”

Aubrey starts with small talk. A courtesy she likes to give people she’s about to murder. 

“You know, the usual. Beautiful breakfront. Is it new?” She asks, commenting on some wooden furniture thing that Beca couldn’t give a fuck about. 

“English Regency something Revival. 1800s or something. Can’t remember what the dude said but it’s gonna bring chicks to the water park if you know what I’m sayin’.” Bumper punctuates with a wink.

Beca makes a face so she doesn’t gag and she hears Aubrey mutter ‘gross’ under her breath. Though she continues to examine the finishing of the English Regency whatever wood thing, she can tell that comment wore the blonde’s patience thin. They can only ever handle one or two of Bumper’s ‘colorful quips’ before Aubrey finds an excuse to get them both out of there—

“Bumper, I’m letting you go.”

Holy _shit_ , that went from zero to one-hundred quick. Beca whips her head to look at Bumper.

“Excuse me?”

She looks to Aubrey.

“I asked you over a dozen times to get Benji to do Ellen and you didn’t do it. You’re fired,” Aubrey explains simply.

Beca at least thought there would be more well-mannered banter because in Aubrey’s words: _Like my dad always said, if you’re going to kill a man, the best warm-up there is is polite conversation. It’s like torture because they don’t know they’re wasting their breath._

“Aubrey, I told you: it’s impossible. The Benji dude’s a total weirdo and he hasn’t done an interview in like two years. He’s basically forgotten – media stylez.”

“With a z?” Aubrey wonders, twisting her face.

“Obvi.” Bumper rolls his eyes, annoyed.

The blonde sighs. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, Bumper, but it’s not: I just finished a thread of emails with him and he’s in.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I emailed him, and after several polite exchanges explaining my commentary on some magic videos he shared with me, he agreed to do Ellen. You didn’t even try, did you?”

“But—”

“I know, I know.” And Aubrey begins to walk, like a vulture flying in circles so its prey knows its fucking lunch. “The odd and quirky are very ‘ _difficult’_ for you to deal with because in your words they are ‘ _total hard passes_ ’—” Air quotes. “—but I put in the time. And now I have Benji’s agreement to do Ellen.”

Aubrey stops in front of Bumper’s desk. 

“I will give you two months to find a new job and _allow_ _you_ the _privilege_ of letting people know you’ve—” Air quotes. “—resigned.” She shoots Bumper’s signature wink back at him. “Okay?” Then she turns and begins to walk out, Beca right behind her.

Say what you will about Aubrey, but she makes the most out of firing someone.

“What’s his twenty?”

Beca peeks. “He’s moving. He’s got crazy eyes.”

They keep walking. Aubrey chants “don’t do it, Bumper, don’t do it” under her breath.

“You…”

Oh no.

“POISONOUS BITCH.”

There it is.

They both turn around. 

“You can’t fire me!”

Aubrey rests her hand on the closest cubicle. Beca sucks in a deep breath and takes a seat on one of the nearby stools because this is going to take a bit. Though, probably not as long as they think; Bumper’s brain usually runs out of shit a lot quicker than they both give him credit for.

“You don’t think I see what you’re doing? Teabagging me on this Ellen thing just so _you_ can look good to the board?”

Did he really just say ‘teabagging’?

“Because YOU, Aubrey Posen, are THREATENED.”

Wow, did he really think that?

“By _me_.”

Did he _really_ think **_that_**?

“And you’re a monster!” He adds as an after-thought, in a very ‘and you know something else’ fashion.

Aubrey is quick to keep him from further embarrassing himself. 

“Bumper, stop,” she says simply.

But oh no, dude keeps going. 

“Just because you have no—no _semblance_ of a _life_! Outside of this office. You think you can like, punish the rest of us for being cool, treating us all like your personal slaves. Beca—“

Wait, what? Is he namedropping her?

“—your own assistant. Probably wants to waterboard you. And not in like a hot sex kind of way.”

There’s a hot sex kind of waterboarding? What the fuck is this guy into?

“And you know what, Posen? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and **_no one_**. There’s no amount of money you can pay anyone to fucking stand by you when you die because you’re an overbearing bitch who’s probably like a total prude who has never done _butt stuff_.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is honest-to-god what he thought he should end this very public outburst with. Butt stuff. Jesus _Christ_.

She hears Aubrey sigh and watches as she takes a single step forward, like a shotgun being loaded, and Bumper is dangerously point-blank range.

As always, Aubrey maintains perfect posture and speaks in a level voice, professional and poised. 

“Bumper, listen carefully: I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened. No. I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and spend more time using the company card for your own personal entertainment than you do work. Seriously, like do you think no one reviews your purchases? ” 

Bumper is about to come in with something but Aubrey stops him effectively by raising a single finger.

“No. And if you say another word, Beca here is going to have your thrown out of your ass, okay?”

Bumper tries again and Aubrey is swift to interrupt him.

“ _Another word_.” She pauses, so he’d really fucking hear her this time. “And you’re going out of here with an armed escort. Beca will film it with her little camera phone and put it on that website we got in a tiff with last month.” 

She turns her head in Beca’s direction just slightly so Beca would utter the site that should not be named.

“YouTube.”

“Exactly,” Aubrey says, looking into Bumper’s eyes again because she’s a big believer in looking into a man’s eyes when you kill them. “Is that what you want? Be a 5 seconds portion in someone’s Biggest Epic Fails compilation?”

Bumper can’t find it in himself to open his stupid mouth.

“Didn’t think so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Aubrey turns and makes her exit. 

* * *

Moments later when they’re walking back to the corner office, it’s as if Aubrey didn’t just experience a very public scene seconds ago and she instructs Beca to have security take the breakfront from Bumper’s office to put in her conference room.

“Will do,” Beca notes.

“And I’m going to need you around this weekend to help review his files and demos,” Aubrey adds, which has Beca tripping over herself just a bit. 

“This weekend?” She asks again because she’s hoping she heard that wrong.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Aubrey even stops her walking to ask (which Aubrey normally hates doing because “talk and walk, Beca, it’s more efficient”).

Beca makes sure not to get smart right now because Aubrey just killed and she could be out for more blood. 

“No, I just— it’s my grandmother’s 90th birthday this weekend and she’s kind of the only member of my family I actually like so I was gonna go home and—”

Once hearing it was a family matter, Aubrey simply kept walking and withdrew to her office.

“Yup, no, good talk. It’s fine. I’m sure 91 is just as good as 90.” Beca squeezes the planner in her hands and retreats to her desk.

* * *

“No, Gammy: I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you! That tweet was not directed at you, I just meant old people in general.” She groans. “I mean, what can I do? She’s making me the work for the weekend. I mean, sure, Dad will be pissed about it but when is he ever not when it comes to me—”

_Click, click, click, click._

“—But we take all of our submissions seriously and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

She puts the phone down.

“Was that your family?” Aubrey asks.

“Yes.”

“They tell you to quit?”

“Every single day.”

The phone rings before Aubrey can speak again.

“Miss Posen’s office. I… Yup. Okay. Alright.”

She puts the phone and turns to Aubrey. “Chicago and Theo want to see you upstairs immediately.”

Aubrey makes a face, like it’s the biggest inconvenience in the world that two of the biggest bosses in the company request her presence. “Fine. Give me ten minutes.” She goes back into her office.

Did she like, not hear the ‘immediately’ part of that or? 

The phone rings again and Beca wishes she can somehow shove a plastic phone through her skull.

* * *

**AUBREY**

_10 minutes, in and out. So much work to do_.

Aubrey breathes in deep before stepping through the doors of Theo’s office.

“Chicago. Theo.” She greets, fixing a smile on her face.

Polite and pleasant: set the tone for the atmosphere you want. Concise: make known your desire.

“Aubrey. Great to see you. Congrats on the Ellen thing. Terrific news.” Theo as always is the first to speak between the two bosses.

“Absolutely. Congrats, Aubrey,” Chicago echoes, charming and sweet like always.

“This isn’t about my second raise, is it?” She jabs, hoping for a light and neutral atmosphere for the remainder of the conversation.

She senses the chuckles from Theo and Chicago’s side as more out of politeness, however.

“Aubrey, do you remember when we agreed that you wouldn’t go to the London ACA’s because you weren’t allowed of the country while your VISA application was being processed,” Theo starts.

“Yes, I do.”

“And… you went anyway,” he finishes.

“I did. We were going to lose Saddle Up to JG Entertainment and I couldn’t have that. So, really, didn’t have a choice, did I?”

“Well, Aubrey, it seems the United States Government doesn’t really _care_ who reps Saddle Up…”

From the way Theo’s tone falls, Aubrey senses this conversation might not go exactly as she predicted. But then Chicago steps in then and she thinks maybe the situation wasn’t going awry like she thought.

“We, uh, just spoke to your immigration attorney.”

“Great! So, we’re all good then? Everything’s good?” Aubrey strains to maintain the pleasant smile on her face.

 _Embody the atmosphere you desire_ , she reminds herself.

“Aubrey, your VISA application has been denied,” Theo cuts through the Nice Guy crap Chicago was just about the come in with. 

“And you’re being deported,” he adds with a sigh, his fingers finding his temples. Because he _knows_ Aubrey is his best employee and admitting the loss of her is going to bring their label down the shitter.

Aubrey stammers. “Wh—what?”

“Apparently there was some paperwork you didn’t fill out in time.” Theo shares, letting the misery soak in as he rubs at his eyes and leans himself back into the $1000 chair that _she_ gifted him on Christmas.

Aubrey exhales, feeling a familiar gurgling in her stomach grow by the second. 

“I mean, come on. It’s not like I’m even an immigrant. I’m from Canada for crying out loud.” She laughs a little nervously. “I mean, there’s—there’s gotta by something we can do. Right?”

Chicago, what with his background in the government (military), comes in with some helpful information. “We can reapply but you have to leave the country for at least a year.”

“Okay!” She takes that. “I can work with that. I mean, it’s not _ideal_ but I can— I can manage everything from Toronto, it’ll be fine. With videoconferencing and Internet. It’s like I wouldn’t even have left,” she declares hopefully.

Theo sighs again. And honestly, she’s _really_ disliking all of this sighing business.

“Unfortunately, Aubrey, if you’re deported…” Chicago starts. “You can’t work for an American company,” he lets her know solemnly. 

Theo takes himself out of Misery City and grips the wheels then. “Till this is resolved, we’re going to turn over operations to Bumper Allen.”

“ _Bumper Allen_? The guy I just _fired_?”

“We need a Director of A&R and he’s the only one in the building with enough experience.”

“You cannot be serious. I beg of you. _Please_.”

“Aubrey, honest, we’re desperate to have you stay. If there was any way, any way at all to make this work, we’d be doing it. But I’m sorry, love, we just—there’s none.”

* * *

“I know… I know… I—Miss Posen is engaged at the moment with Top Management and I really can’t— If you would wait for a bit and I will contact you again personally when she’s available to speak with— I understand but—… I understand… Yes… You know what, fine, okay, I’ll get her for you. Would you mind staying on the line for just a moment please then? Okay, thanks.”

She places the phone down her desk and flips it off before getting up and walking out of her cubicle. 

Aubrey’s gonna kill her for even trying this but getting Benji on Ellen is like her biggest thing right now, so the backlash can’t be so bad, right? She’s got Aubrey’s biggest concern at the core of this.

* * *

Double doors for the office. That’s how you know this person’s important.

Tentatively, Beca lifts her fist and knocks thrice on the wood before making the call and just going for it, pushing in without allowing them a chance to wave her away.

“ _Excuse me_ , we’re in a meeting here—”

“Hi. Sorry! Aubrey, I just— I know you’re busy, but Mandy from Ellen’s Office is on the line and it’s really urgent. I’ve tried everything in the book, told her you were otherwise ‘engaged’. However, she’s insisting so… She’s on the line. Waiting.” Beca makes a face.

And she doesn’t know what it is – why Aubrey looks at her like that – but Beca can tell she’s about to get into something super messed up when Aubrey’s eyes widen into a glare and she urges Beca over with a few subtle gestures.

Beca – though confused – obliges, shuffling deeper into the office she’s only been in twice before. She stands the usual four feet away that Aubrey prefers when they’re in the presence of other people like this, and she grows only more confused when Aubrey waves her closer. With a frown, she sidesteps a couple of times until she’s right beside Aubrey.

“Gentlemen,” her boss speaks. “Uh… _I understand_. I understand the predicament we are in... And uh, there’s… there’s something I think you should know.”

What the fuck is going on?

“We are… getting married.”

 _What?!_

Beca almost screams out loud.Shecan’t see her face but she’s sure she looks like a deer caught in headlights. __

“Yes, we are… getting _married_ ,” Aubrey says again with more conviction, like it’ll fight the look of confusion off of everyone’s faces. It just makes Beca’s brows furrow and mouth fall into a small O.

She feels Aubrey’s hand just barely pat her on the shoulder.

“We’re getting married,” she hears again.

“ _Who’s_ getting married?” Beca finally decides to voice, because she’s very, _very_ confused right now.

“You and I.”

“You and I?”

“Yes, Silly. We’re getting married, right? She loves playing this game. Making it hard for me. Total josher this one.”

Aubrey goes to punch Beca lightly on the arm as a joke and it’s the most uncomfortable thing Beca’s ever experienced. Not because she’s never had anyone playfully punch her on the arm before, but because watching Aubrey pretend to be a normal human being was weird as fuck.

“We’re getting married!” Aubrey proclaims again.

The vein by her temple that shows up when she’s trying to keep her calm appears, and Beca knows to agree now before Aubrey upchucks yesterday’s lunch.

“We _are_ ,” she says, clicking her tongue. “Mhm,” she affirms despite herself.

“We are,” Aubrey echoes, sighing contently. She squeezes Beca’s shoulder a little.

Theo and Chicago look like they’re processing at best and unconvinced at worst.

What the fuck though, she’s _not_ marrying fucking Aubrey.

“Isn’t she your secretary?” Chicago points out.

“Assistant,” Beca corrects.

“ _Executive_ … assistant secretary,” Aubrey chimes in. And it’s the first time Beca thinks she’s gone back on her words.

God, who was this person and what did they do with the robot that was her _boss_?

“But it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries. Right, Chicago?” Aubrey shoots, recovering from that small seizure of embarrassment she just suffered with a wink.

Chicago lowers his gaze then.

“So… yeah. The truth is,” Aubrey begins, curling her arm around Beca’s.

Beca imagines this is what it feels like when an anaconda that’s longer than 3 human bodies wraps itself around you.

“Beca and I are just… two people who… weren’t meant to fall in love but… we did.”

What the fuck.

“Right?”

_No._

No is the immediate answer that flashes itself repeatedly in an obnoxious neon color in Beca’s brain. 

But Aubrey keeps eyeing her, doing that Thing where she tries to communicate what she’s saying with a death glare, and Beca can only gape at her for so long before Chicago and Theo get suspicious so she gives and goes:

“Right. We did. Totally.”

Beca can tell that’s the right call from how the vein by Aubrey’s temple dulls in appearance.

“All those… late night at the office…”

And just like that she regrets her decision. 

“Award shows…”

Beca shakes her head. 

“Something… something happened,” Aubrey insists.

“Something? Really?” Beca challenges.

“ _Something_ ,” Aubrey forces, nodding at her in a very ‘you better agree with this, bitch’ way before turning to face Theo and Chicago again. “And we tried to fight it but uh, can’t… can’t fight a love like ours so… there you have it.”

Aubrey pats Beca on the shoulder again for good measure and Beca sidesteps away just little.

“Are you good with this? Are you happy? Because… _we_ are. So happy. _Soooo_ happy.”

Aubrey grins in a way that makes it looks like she’s about to shit herself.

The big bosses still look mostly unconvinced but at least they’re past ‘processing’ and comfortably situated in the ‘skeptical’ stage. There’s a long beat of waiting on Aubrey and Beca’s side before Theo just sighs (and Beca thinks she hears Aubrey groan) before telling them to – he raises his left hand and points to his ring finger – ‘make it official’.

“Of course,” Aubrey agrees. “Looks like _we_ —” She faces Beca. “—have a date with the Immigration Office.”

* * *

When they return to Aubrey’s corner office, Beca is still stunned. Aubrey seems just fine and resumes going through files at her desk like normal but shouldn’t they like… I don’t know, talk about this shit?

“Um… Aubrey?”

“Mhm?”

“What… _the fuck_?”

Aubrey’s head whips up then. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, mostly set off by Beca’s choice of ‘language’.

“Dude, like… what happened in there? We’re not _dating_. I’m not _marrying_ you. Why did you say that shit?”

Aubrey sighs then, tapping the stack of folders against her desk so they’re all level. “ _Beca_.” 

Oh, that’s _low tone Beca_. She’s about to get her shit handed to her. She’s not sure what shit, but Aubrey’s definitely going to whip up something out of thin air that will make Beca question why she ever decided to open her mouth in the first place.

“You’ve worked for me for what? Three years?”

Beca makes a noncommittal arm movement in response.

Aubrey takes it as a sign to continue on. “Have I ever made a decision that’s not purposeful and beneficial in more ways than one?”

“Are you trying to say a marriage against my will is somehow for my benefit too?” Beca quips.

Aubrey narrows her eyes at her from behind the desk. “They were going to make _Bumper_ the Director of A &R.”

Beca looks at her as if to ask ‘so?’ and Aubrey almost rolls her eyes at this point that Beca seems to be missing.

Aubrey stands then. 

“Let me make this simple for you.” 

She flattens her skirt with her hands before she meets Beca’s gaze. 

“If I get let go, then they make Bumper the Director of A&R. The second Bumper takes up my job, the first he’ll do is _fire you_ out of spite to _m_ e. Guaranteed. And then you’re out on the streets, alone, looking for a job in an economy that’s already failing and an industry that’s as competitive as ever with no plan and nowhere else to go.”

Beca frowns at the truth of the situation. Aubrey adds more to her list of reasons, because she’s That Bitch and super thorough.

“And all three of those years you spent? Here, with me? All those lattes, the late nights, 2AM tampon runs, and weekends slaving away for the chance that you might actually become a producer at this label… That’s gone.” She snaps. “Like that.”

Beca wants so badly to go against her with anything in her arsenal and she hates that the only thing she has in her back pocket is the law.

“This is still illegal,” Beca reminds her. Though it’s a meager attempt, it’s _something_.

Aubrey sighs, walking around her desk before fitting the straps of her purse of her shoulder and fixing her gaze on Beca.

“The United States government is out there looking for _terrorists_. Not music producers.”

She picks some lint off of Beca’s – Jesse’s – shirt. 

“And besides, are you saving yourself for someone special?”

“Um, no?”

“Then what’s the problem?” She shakes her head, annoyed, and makes her way out.

 _Click, click, click, click._

Beca can hear her heels making their way down the hall. God, she’s going to be haunted by that sound for the rest of her life. And she actually think that’s meant literally now with this ‘engagement’ or whatever.

* * *

When they arrive at the Immigration Office, the line is long – as one would expect. What one doesn’t expect though is Aubrey completely disregarding the queue, strutting past all of the irritated immigration-goers till she’s at the very front of the desk.

“Hi, yes. Excuse me. I need you to file this Fiancée Visa for me please. It’s urgent.”

Beca watches the clerk and he just barely glances their application before looking at them again.

“You two, come with me please.” He waves them towards the offices at the back.

Aubrey smirks at Beca then, like ‘look Beca, I’m so important I’m allowed to cut lines _and_ have things work out for me too. If you do anything with the right amount of confidence and dominance _, anything’s_ possible’.

Beca rolls her eyes and sighs, following behind Aubrey to this so-called office.

* * *

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Beca voices her worry.

“Oh shush, it’ll be fine. We’re in contact with each other every day, we spend an obscene amount of time together… The proof is in our favor—”

“What favo—”

“Ah, lovebirds. Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

At least that’s what Beca thinks this freakishly tall man says. He has a thick German accent. It makes Aubrey eye him skeptically.

“Are you…” Aubrey begins but then decides against it. “It’s fine. We’re just thankful you were able to see us on such short notice.”

Tall maybe-German man sits. “I’m Mr. Kramer,” he introduces.

They both nod.

“And you two aren’t by any chance about to commit fraud so she doesn’t get deported and lose her position as Director of A&R at TC Recordings, no?”

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. 

“That’s ridiculous.” Aubrey recovers first.

“Where did you hear that?” Beca backs her.

“We got a tip from a man named… Bump—Is this man’s name really Bump—? Anyway, Mr. _Bumper_ Allen.”

“Ah.” Aubrey shakes her head. “Mr. Kramer, I am so sorry you had to waste your time listening to that man. He is just… a disgruntled former employee. It’s honestly nothing. I sincerely apologize. I know you’re incredibly busy. So, if you could just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way.”

Kramer smiles at Aubrey before gesturing to the seat across from his desk that she’s not sitting in because she thought she could hurry herself through this part of the process too. Aubrey sits.

“Let me explain to you the process that is about to unfold, ladies. Listen closely.”

Aubrey straightens her posture and Beca sits up a little more.

“Step one: a scheduled interview. I will put you each in a room and ask you every little detail about each other, as any real couple would know.”

Fair enough.

“Step two: I will dive deep. Deep into the story of Aubrey and Beca.”

They frown then. And they probably shouldn’t have.

Kramer continues. “I will go through your phone records, talk to your neighbors, your coworkers, the barista at your most frequented hot beverage establishment.”

Beca’s eyes widen and Aubrey eyes her.

“If your answers don’t match up at every point, YOU – Miss Posen – will be deported immediately. And YOU – Miss Mitchell – will face 5 years in a federal prison and a fine to up to $250,000. BOOM!”

They skid back on their chairs, startled.

“Sorry, I like to say boom after I finish a long explanation. Working at Immigration is very long and tiring.”

They regain their bearings and resettle into their seats.

“So!”

They both jump again.

“Miss Mitchell… do you… have anything… you want to…”

Why does he keep making these frequent pauses? It’s literally making the pause lose its effect.

“…say… to…”

They lean away in case of a ‘boom’.

“…me.”

They relax.

“BOOM.”

They jump again.

“Okay, you know what,” Aubrey cuts in now. “No. Beca has nothing to say. We love each other, we’re getting married, and that’s that.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Posen, but you are not Miss Mitchell yet, or Miss Posen-Mitchell or Miss Mitchell-Posen, or whatever you two decide. I was speaking to _current_ Miss Mitchell. Miss…” He looks at the folder. _“Rebeca_ **Jane** Mitchell.”

Beca gulps.

“Miss Mitchell?” Kramer tries again.

Aubrey looks at her.

She feels like it’s a billion degrees in this room. She pulls at the collar of Jesse’s shirt before she begins.

“The truth is…” 

God, what is the truth? The truth is this is illegal that’s what. And she could go to _jail. That’s_ the real truth. There’s so much on the fucking line.

Wait. That’s it. There _is_ so much on the fucking line. 

“Mister Kramer, the truth is… Aubrey and I…” Wow, that’s a really weird thing to say. “Aubrey and I… are just… two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love… but did. And the reason we didn’t tell anybody is...” She looks at Aubrey when she’s says this next part. “Because of my big promotion that’s coming up.”

Aubrey’s mouth falls just barely before she’s catching herself. “P—promotion?”

“Yeah. My _big_ promotion.” She emphasizes.

Beca pushes on, looking only at Kramer now. “We—” Play that couple card. “ _We_ felt it would just be… deeply inappropriate if I were to be promoted to Producer while we were... you know.”

Kramer still appears a little skeptical but he doesn’t give up. “So, have you lovebirds told your _parents_ about your secret love?”

“Oh, well, that’s impossible. My parents are dead. No brothers or sisters either.” Aubrey says a little too quickly and too gladly.

Beca squints her eyes at the blonde before turning to Kramer and nodding.

“And you, Miss Mitchell? Are your parents dead?”

“Um… no. No, they’re not. They’re— My dad’s still kicking.” She leaves it at that.

Beca ignores the feeling of Aubrey’s eyes on her, choosing to grip at the arm of the chair she’s in a little tighter instead. A silence falls on all of them and she hates it. It lasts for a couple seconds longer than she likes before Aubrey slides in.

“We were actually going to tell them this weekend.”

 _That_ has Beca whipping her head to look at her.

“It’s Gammy’s 90th birthday, the whole family’s getting together, and we… we thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

The audacity on this woman, Beca swears.

“And where is this surprise taking place?”

“At… Beca’s parents’ house,” Aubrey manages to save herself.

“And that’s in…?” Kramer tries.

But Aubrey’s too smart for that. “Beca… sweetie. Don’t let me take all the fun, it’s _your_ parents. Go on. Jump in. Tell him.”

Jaw clenched, Beca turns to face Kramer and answers. “Sitka...”

“Sitka!”

“…Alaska,” Beca finishes.

“Alaska..?”

“So you both are going to Alaska this weekend?” Kramer repeats, in a very ‘Really? Seriously, you’re not going to give up?’ tone.

“Yes,” they answer at the time.

“Yup.” Beca.

“Indeed.” Aubrey.

“Hmmm…” Kramer eyes them. “Fine, I see how it is. If you want to play at that way, fine. Let’s do it. I will see you _both_ 11 o’clock on Monday morning for your scheduled interview and your answers better match up on every account.” 

He scribbles the details onto a yellow Post-It and hands it to them, which Beca ends up having to take because Aubrey is _already_ back on her phone now that she got what she wanted to hear from Kramer.

“Mhm. I’ll be checking in on you... Miss Aubrey Posen and Miss Rebeca Jane Mitchell.”

Do Immigration people justknow how much you _hate_ hearing your full name and use it against you or?

Beca tugs the straps of her bag higher on her shoulder and rolls her eyes on their way out, trailing behind Aubrey and this ever-so-important email she just _had_ to answer.

* * *

“So. Beca. Here’s what’s going to happen: we’re going to go up to your parents’ this weekend. Play girlfriends. The whole thing. Use my miles for the tickets. And I suppose I’ll pop for you to be upgraded to First Class on account of this favor but make sure we get the miles. If we don’t get the miles, we’re not doing it. Also, _please_ confirm the vegan meal, okay? Last time, they gave it to an _actual_ vegan and I was forced to eat this horrible creamy salad thing and— Excuse me, why aren’t you taking notes?”

“I’m sorry, were you not in there?” Beca finally decides to speak.

Aubrey looks confused for a moment but then she seems to understand what Beca is getting at. 

“Oh! Oh, the thing you said about being promoted? Genius. Genius added detail. It totally helped our case. He completely bought it.”

Apparently not.

“I was serious,” Beca lets be known. “I’m looking at a two-hundred fifty _thousand_ dollar fine and 5 years of _jail time._ That changes things.”

“Promote you to Producer?” Aubrey chuckles. “No. No way.”

“Then I quit and you’re screwed. Bye, Aubrey.” Beca turns and walks away.

When she’s a couple of feet gone and Aubrey realizes she’s not fucking around, she calls out her name. 

“Beca! Beca, okay! Beca, wait! Fine. FINE.”

Beca turns around and tilts her head, wanting to hear it what she hopes this ‘fine’ entails.

“I’ll promote you,” Aubrey obliges. 

Beca walks closer.

“I’ll make you Producer. Butonly if you do this weekend in Alaska and the interview on Monday. Okay?”

Beca narrows her eyes at Aubrey. 

Aubrey squares her jaw. “I _will,_ ” she repeats.

Because Beca knows Aubrey’s schtick. She’s worked for her for three whole ass _years_.

“Promotion effective immediately butonly once everything is done and not a moment before,” Aubrey clarifies. 

“And you’ll pick up Emily Junk.”

Aubrey bites on her lower lip. Beca almost thinks Aubrey won’t agree to this one but she’s soon responding with, “Fine.”

“And we’ll tell my family about our engagement on _my_ terms. When I want and _how_ I want.”

Aubrey’s nostrils flare. Beca knows she’s got her riled with all of these requests but Aubrey has to give in no matter what with the stakes on the line. It’s not like Beca doesn’t have a lot to lose too.

The blonde gives a terse nod in agreement. And though it might not have been the resounding confirmation she would have preferred, Beca is satisfied.

And just to get Aubrey back for the latte thing today…

“Also, ask nicely.”

“What?”

Beca lifts her ring hand and lowers her gaze to the ground for Aubrey to get the message.

She makes a face. “What? No. No no no. No. This is New York City ground. I can contract 20 different diseases doing that.”

“You know, with your floor-to-ceiling windows, Bumper’s gonna have a _blast_ flashing New York City during his 2PM wanks—”

“ _Fine._ Fine fine fine.” Aubrey looks around before moving appropriately so that both of her knees are on the ground. It’s not the traditional one-knee but she’s in a skirt so Beca will take it.

Aubrey huffs. “Will you marry me?”

“Wow. Really? Dude. Say it like you mean it. Not every day a chick gets proposed to.”

Aubrey exhales deeply. Then she fixes a pretty smile on her face, signifying her new attempt.

“Beca?”

“Mhm?”

“Sweet, _sweet_ Beca.”

“I’m listening.” Beca plays along.

“Will you please… please, with the cherries on top, marry me?”

Aubrey even blinks her eyes. Coming from a person like her, it doesn’t hold the same effect.

Beca presses her lips together, pretending to think about it. It’s mostly so Aubrey’s knees are exposed to New York City dirt a little longer.

“Fine,” she decides.

Aubrey releases a breath.

“Yes, I will marry you. I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I will marry you.”

She extends her hand as if to help Aubrey up but just as the blonde goes to reach for it, Beca pulls away, promptly making Aubrey fall forward as she makes her exit.

“See you at the airport tomorrow.” She calls out, satisfied knowing not only were Aubrey’s knees exposed to New York City’s filth but her hands are now infected too.

Cherry on top. Truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me @ bsnows.tumblr.com if you wanna holla 'bout this fic


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of/inspired by the movie 'the proposal'.

God, Beca doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to this. It’s one thing knowing she’s only working for Aubrey and there will be a time when she’s free from her shit, but being ‘engaged’ to her – technically – with a promise of marriage and a decent amount of time under the same roof before inevitable divorce is just… it’s a lot. So much as so that Beca almost forgets to make sure Aubrey’s coffee order is _light_ soy and not just regular soy when she’s thinking about it while in line for Starbucks.  


“Here you go.” She hands Aubrey the to-go cup which the woman takes promptly, soon returning to going through emails on her phone.

At least Aubrey’s quiet.

It’s a good thing because Beca’s _tired_. On top of going to sleep knowing she’s pre-hitched to Aubrey Posen, they had a long call last night to go over all of the details Aubrey needs to do know about Beca’s family and what to say regarding their ‘relationship’. It made packing _the worst_ because every 5 minutes Aubrey would go “Why aren’t I hearing any movement? Have you stopped packing? Beca, you need to pack.”

Beca must want to make music _bad_ if that’s what she’s going to have to be dealing with for the next year or so.

* * *

Once boarded and settled into their seats, Beca takes out the little booklet of questions the INS agent will be asking come Monday. Being her assistant, Beca knows most of the shit she needs to about Aubrey but she can’t say the same for the blonde.

“So here’s everything we need to know about each other. The good news is that I know all of this about _you_ , but the _bad news_ is you have four days to learn all of this about _me_.”

Aubrey scoffs at the challenge before taking the booklet from Beca to peruse the questions.

“You know all of _this_ about _me_?”

“I’ve done everything short of wiping your ass for the past 3 years, I’m pretty sure I know it,” Beca quips, gazing out of the window.

Aubrey decides to test that. “What am I allergic to?”

“Pine nuts,” she answers. And she _knows_ she’s correct. “As well as the entire spectrum of human emotion.”

Aubrey scoffs that that. “Well, I am very vocal about my allergies so this one was too easy,” she dismisses.

“Alright, hit me again,” Beca encourages.

Aubrey scans the page for a more interesting question. “Okay, how about this: do I have any _scars_?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

“Oh, you’re pretty sure?”

Beca finally turns away from the window. “Two years ago, your dermatologist called about a Q-Switch Laser appointment. And of course, since I got my first tattoo at 16, I’m very aware of what _that_ is because my father detests any decision I’ve ever made ever.”

Aubrey simply narrows her eyes at Beca. “Birthday?”

“April 10th. Mine?”

“…August…”

Beca shakes her head.

“July…”

“Colder.”

“September?”

“Warmer.”

“November.”

“Date?”

“5th?”

“You only needed my help the _entire way_ but you got there eventually.” Beca smirks.

Aubrey shakes her head before shoving the booklet towards Beca and turning back to the phone in her hands.

“Finally met your match, huh, Posen?”

“I’ll know all of it before the weekend is over, I assure you. Tests are my specialty.”

“That is literally the saddest thing anyone’s ever said ever.”

Aubrey sneers a little before redirecting her attention to the laptop before her. Beca rolls her eyes, cupping her headphones over her ears and looking out of the window.

She’s not even married yet and she already wants a divorce.

* * *

The plane’s wheels hit the ground of the runway of Sitka’s airport and all of the sudden, this whole thing feels realer than it has ever been. It might have to do with Beca seeing her grandmother and step-mom waiting at Arrival with what she thinks is a homemade sign.

Here goes nothing.

Beca sighs.

“Try to seem normal,” she says before moving ahead of Aubrey for the plane’s exit.

_Beca! Beca! Over here!_

Beca fixes a polite smile on her face and speeds up her walk for the remaining distance. She’s quickly wrapped in a tight hug from her 89-year-old grandmother.

“Oh, there’s my girl.”

“Hey, gammy.” 

When they pull away, her grandmother’s hands are quick to find her face and hold it, patting her cheeks. 

“My favorite lil scrappy.”

It’s a nickname of affection contrary to what anyone else might think. Beca gives her grandmother her moment before turning away to meet gazes with Sheila, her step-mom. 

For a step-mom, they’re actually pretty close. Sure, Beca gave her a hard time at the start, but they genuinely share a pretty decent relationship now and are probably closer than Beca and her dad.

“Hey, Sheila.” They hug and it feels like home in a calmer way, most likely due to the fact that Sheila knows not to attempt to crush all of the bones in Beca’s body like her grandmother does.

Their hug is cut short when Beca registers the familiar _click, click, click_ of Aubrey’s heels. Yeah, she wore heels to Sitka. The woman clearly doesn’t know how to dress for the situation but it’s not like Beca can stop her.

“Mom, Sheila, this is the… uh, lovely lady I was telling you about. This is Aubrey,” Beca introduces, just barely keeping herself from gagging when she refers to Aubrey as a ‘lovely lady’.

“Hello,” Aubrey greets, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

She shakes hands with each of them, and Beca is surprised by how warm Aubrey manages to come off despite knowing she’s literally the devil.

“Now, do you prefer Aubrey or Satan’s Mistress?”

Beca’s eyes widen. 

“We’ve heard it both ways. Actually, we’ve heard it lots of ways—”

Beca’s quick to cut her off. “Uhhh, she suffers from old people stuff. We should really get in the car if we want to beat traffic.” She begins usher her grandmother and Sheila away.

“Traffic? Honey, you know we have none of that here,” Sheila points out as Beca leads her away.

“It must be all of the pollution from New York. I told you it’ll rot her brain,” her grandmother says.

Jesus Christ, this will be a long weekend.

* * *

“Why are we stopping at a dock?” Aubrey asks as the truck slows to a stop near a harbor.

“We need to ride a boat to the house, dear,” Gammy says.

“Oh, we cancelled your reservation, honey. Family doesn’t stay at hotels. You’ll be staying at our home,” Sheila informs before stepping out of the truck.

Once Sheila and her grandmother get out, Aubrey snaps her head to Beca and speaks.

“A boat? Where do you live? An _island_?” She asks Beca at a lower volume.

“It’s just… more far off. Privacy and whatever.” Beca shrugs and hops out.

She makes her way around the truck to get their bags. Aubrey, of course, has entire set of Louis Vuitton luggage with her. Why the fuck she needs _three_ bags for a long weekend, Beca will never know, but Jesus Christ, that big one’s heavy. It almost pins her to the ground.

“You might wanna lift with your legs with that one,” she mutters at Aubrey before walking off with her one bag and backpack.

“Beca, honey, don’t you wanna help Aubrey?” Sheila asks.

“Oh, I tried, but she’s really big on independence and doing things by herself, so.”

The three of them watch as Aubrey tries to maneuver the biggest of the bags around while wearing 6-inch Prada stilettos. Should Beca have told her those have no place at Sitka? Probably. But would Aubrey have listened? Probably not.

“Put your back into it, honey!” Beca calls out before waving her stepmom and grandmother ahead to leave Aubrey to her business.

* * *

_Pssst._

Beca looks up.

“I’m not getting on that thing,” Aubrey whispers.

Beca is halfway down the ladder that lowers to the deck the boat is tied to. 

“You know I can’t swim,” she reminds Beca.

It makes her sigh.

“I know, Aubrey.” Beca gestures her hand outwards. “Hence: _the boat_.” 

The shorter girl rolls her eyes and makes the rest of the way down. Feet on the dock, she looks up at Aubrey and beckons for her to follow. She’s met with further reluctance on the blonde’s face.

“C’mon, munchkin,” she calls out. “Chariot awaits and all that crap.”

One thing Beca knows Aubrey is that she hates making people wait. It’s enough to get the woman to ease up enough to at least try making her way down. And Beca’s not exaggerating when she says this either but it’s the longest she’s _ever_ had to wait for anyone to make it down the ladder. That includes her 89 year-old grandmother.

“Do you need help?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I just had two kids.”

Aubrey ignores her and focuses taking another step down the ladder.

“One of them just went off to college.”

It’s annoying enough to throw Aubrey off to the point that she slips on her next step down. She yelps. Beca is quick to help her, hands finding her hips and steadying them.

“Got you!”

Beca’s “heroism” would come off heroic even to her if only her face wasn’t directly level with Aubrey’s ass. She hears her grandmother giggle somewhere behind her but ignores it.

“Three more steps,” she decides to say instead, averting her eyes. She rests one of her feet on the closest step to allow for more balance.

For once, Aubrey just listens to her and even lets her guide her just a bit.

“Move your foot to the left, a little lower. Yup. Other one. Couple more inches down. That’s it. I’ve got you. Do the other foot. There you go—”

With one foot on a flat surface, Aubrey gets cocky and turns around. But with her skinny stiletto, she’s poorly balanced and slips before she knows it. Thankfully, Beca still has one hand on the ladder and the other on her, so on instinct, the shorter girl grips tightly and pulls.

Somehow, they end up face to face with Aubrey’s body pressed to hers. Beca doesn’t think she’s ever seen Aubrey’s eyes this close up before. They’re both at a loss for words at the sudden closeness.

And Beca, being who she is, lets out the first thing that comes to mind:

“Congratulations, I’m now 84 years old,” she deadpans, looking directly into Aubrey’s eyes.

Aubey’s prior stunned expression contorts to a look of annoyance as she scoffs and pushes past Beca for the comfort of the boat. In her desire to get away, one of her heels stab Beca’s boot when she walks off. 

“Ow! _Jesus._ ” Beca shakes out her foot. “You know, no need to thank me, honey! I’m just glad to be your doormat!” She calls out.

She knows Aubrey _would_ flip her off if only her mother and grandmother weren’t sitting on that boat.

* * *

Beca thinks the universe repaid her for the pain her foot suffered in the form of Aubrey being the only one on the boat wearing a bright orange life vest. She’s _that_ afraid of water.

They’re sitting at the back. Her grandmother sits up front. Sheila is at the helm, moving the speedboat across the water, swift and smooth. When they get a first glimpse at their property, Aubrey breaks her silence.

“That’s _your house_?” She speaks. “Who _are_ you people?”

Beca only purses her lips.

She understands that reaction. She’d probably feel the same if she wasn’t used to it. Her family is… comfortable. They do own six businesses in town after all.

“Welcome to Casa de Mitchell. They almost filmed a horror movie here.”

Aubrey’s eyes widen then.

“They didn’t,” she’s quick to say. “Obviously. But they thought the location would be pretty good because it was away from town.”

“Well, _that_ isn’t unsettling at all.” Aubrey pulls her lifejacket closer together.

“Relax. The only evil thing that’s gonna be at that place is you.”

Aubrey sneers.

“See.”

* * *

“You didn’t tell me you were rich,” is the first thing out of Aubrey’s mouth once they’re on land and walking.

“I’m not rich,” Beca counters. “My parents are.”

“That’s what rich people say.”

_Hey, Beca! Welcome home!_

“I—Um, hey!” Beca calls out, confused. She turns to her step-mom. “What is this?”

“Nothing! It’s just a little Welcome Party.” Sheila smiles.

“A little?”

Sheila bites her lip. “Half of Sitka might be there? It’s family and friends, sweetie. Don’t worry about it.”

Beca groans.

* * *

Once they enter, it’s handshakes galore. No matter where they turn and go off to, there’s always someone who wants a hug or to shake hands. Beca knows she can’t stomach it for longer after what seems like 10th person. She’s quick to make excuses about ‘finding her dad’, which is not _totally_ a lie – she kind of is even if she doesn’t want to see him.

Aubrey is right beside Beca as she makes her way from room to room. She wastes no time sliding up to Beca to whisper at her when they’re finally ‘alone’, meaning on the move because that’s the only way no one will talk to them.

“So, why didn’t you tell me you were practically Alaskan royalty?”

“Alaskan royalty? That makes no sense.” Beca shakes her head, going into a room she thinks will be empty but of course, it isn’t. “Also, how could I? We were in the middle of talking about _you_ for the past three _years_ —”

Aubrey takes her sleeve and pulls her off to the side. “Okay, time-out. This bickering bickerson thing needs to stop. People need to think we’re in love. Let’s just try to seem like we like each other for the next five minutes if that’s even possible.”

“Oh, that’s no problem for _me_. I’ve been pretending to like you for the last _three years_. For you, on the other hand, it’s going to require you to have to stop snacking on children while they _dream_ —”

“Beca?”

She turns around. “Oh, Mrs. Smith. Mr. Smith. Hi.” She gestures to Aubrey. “This is Aubrey.”

Cue Aubrey greeting her former high school English teacher and neighbor like they’re clients at the label. Beca tries not to roll her eyes.

“So I’ve always wanted to know, what does a Music Producer _do_?” Mrs. Smith smiles at her widely.

“Yeah, tell us, Becs. What _does_ a Music Producer do?” And _that’s_ how her father introduces himself.

“Hey, Dad.” Beca greets, but there’s no warmth or kindness to it like when she greeted Mrs. Smith.

“Hon.” 

They shake hands. Because obviously.

“This must be Aubrey, am I right?” He extends his hand, which Aubrey takes and gives a firm shake to. “John Mitchell. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Aubrey Posen. Pleasure’s mine.” 

Aubrey smiles graciously but Beca can tell she senses the change in the shorter girl’s demeanor. Beca wonders if Aubrey can feel the utter disdain radiating from her body towards her father. 

“So, uh, tell us: what exactly does a Music Producer do? I mean, besides taking artists out to lunch and getting bombed at parties.” Her father chuckles, and even something as non-threatening as that manages to sound condescending because it’s from him.

“Well, that sounds like fun,” Mrs. Smith chimes in. “No wonder you like being a Producer.”

“Oh no, Louise, Beca’s not a Producer. She’s a Producer’s _assistant_. Aubrey here’s the Producer.”

“I’m actually Director of A&R but I dabble where people need help,” Aubrey is quick to clarify.

“Oh, so you—” Mrs. Smith points to Aubrey. “—are Beca’s boss? How about that.”

“I know, right?” Her dad chimes in before taking the finishing sip of whiskey. “Excuse me, I need to get a refill.”

“Oh, we’ll join you.” 

Beca clenches her jaw. The Smiths leave with her father, and Aubrey turns to face her.

“So that’s your dad?”

“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’.

“Charming,” Aubrey comments, in a way that infers that he isn’t charming at all.

Beca doesn’t even have it in her for a smart comment, her mood soured now as she turns around to follow after her father, thankful to see the Smiths have wandered off and he’s alone now.

“Really?”

Her dad turns.

“We _just_ got here,” she points out. “Can’t we wait two seconds before throwing the kitchen sink at each other?”

“I just don’t get it, Becs. You come back here after all of this time and now you’re dating a woman you claimed you hated? I just never figured you to be someone who slept their way to the middle.”

And it’s the fact that he actually _sounds_ disappointed that has her seething.

She’s not backing down. “I’ll have you know that that woman in there is one of _the_ most respected A &R Directors in the city.”

“She’s your meal ticket and you brought her home to meet your mother,” her dad dismisses.

And she doesn’t hate Sheila but she goes: “ _Step_ mother.”

Her father grinds his teeth.

“And she’s not my meal ticket, she’s my _fiancée_ ,” Beca reveals as the final shot to finish him.

Her father blinks. “What?”

She walks past him, brushing her shoulder past his when she goes into the next room.

“You heard me,” she announces louder. “I’m getting _married_.”

The room erupts in sounds of surprise and cheers. On the other end of the room, she spots Aubrey, mouth agape and totally confused. She’s guessing Aubrey figured the announcement wouldn’t happen _like that_. And honestly, neither did Beca.

“Come on down, babe. Show ‘em your pretty face.” Beca plays it up, forcing herself to look completely and utterly proud to further piss off her father.

Aubrey makes her way over, bowing lightly at the applause she receives.

* * *

“So _that’s_ how you wanted to tell people we were engaged?” 

Aubrey is quick to talk to Beca once the champagne has been popped and passed around the room.

“Well, you _did_ give me permission to reveal when and _how_ I wanted,” Beca points out.

“And _that’s_ your choice. Really?” She sips her champagne.

“Whatever. I thought you’d be over the moon with my ‘efficiency’—”

“Hi!”

Beca looks over her shoulder and finds herself turning fully when she registers who that greeting just came from.

“ _Chloe_.”

Before she knows it, she’s taking the step forward to meet the redhead halfway in a hug. It’s a little longer than any other hug Aubrey’s seen Beca give since they arrived. They pull away after Chloe gives her a little squeeze.

“How are you doing? I… didn’t know you’d be here.”

Beca can _feel_ the way Aubrey’s eyes watch her with this ‘new’ behavior she exhibits. But she finds very little shit to give about it and focuses on Chloe instead – a person in this house she’s _actually_ happy to see.

“Well, your grandmother wanted it to be a surprise so… surprise,” Chloe shares with a smile and giggle, shrugging her shoulders. Her eyes never leave Beca’s and honestly, Beca’s never leave hers.

Chloe is quick to break their gaze when she sees Aubrey to the side of Beca, however.

“And we are being totally rude.” She faces her body towards Aubrey. “Hi.”

Beca herself is reminded that Aubrey is there. “Right, yeah! This is—this is Aubrey. My, you know, yeah.”

Chloe shakes her head on behalf of Beca, a blush to her cheeks. She steps forward to envelop Aubrey in a hug that the blonde stiffens in. Beca would roll her eyes if she weren’t so worried about Aubrey potentially being a bitch to Chloe.

“This is Chloe.” Beca pulls herself together enough to say. “She’s my—we dated,” she settles for saying, letting Chloe take control of the situation.

“Congratulations!” Chloe wishes once she pulls away, beaming. Her voice sweet and kind, just like Beca remembers it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Aubrey manages to say, giving a polite nod in exchange.

Beca can tell she feels sideswiped by the lack of information that was previously available to her. She likes being prepared about this kind of thing. Chloe’s the one part of her life that Beca doesn’t like to share though – it’s hers. She didn’t think Chloe would be here.

“So did I miss it?” Chloe asks. “The story of how you guys got engaged? Which one of you was it?”

This peaks her grandmother’s interest. “Oh yes, tell us!” 

And because that woman’s damn near lost her hearing, she says it loud enough to draw the attention of the entire room, putting Aubrey and Beca on the spot.

“It was me,” they both say at the same time. Then they look at each other with furrowed brows.

Chloe stares at the both of them, confused.

“I did it,” they both try and fail _again_.

They eye each other, clearly aggravated.

“What Beca means to say is—”

“We proposed at the same time,” Beca cuts in. “Coincidentally.”

Aubrey sneaks her a ‘what the hell are you doing’ face that Beca ignores.

“But it was definitely me first,” Beca is quick to clarify.

“She cried.” Aubrey fights back.

Beca stares at her with wide eyes.

 _Two can play at this game, Mitchell_. The blonde smirks at her before continuing, “She’s just a sensitive, _sensitive_ soul.” Aubrey has the audacity to pretend to look at her with fond eyes.

Beca gazes, mouth agape at these utter _lies_.

“Well, that’s because Aubrey’s a shitty cook and she tried to make curry and failed _miserably_. It was basically chili paste with meat in it. That’s why I was crying. Not because of emotions or anything because that’s gross.”

“It’s because Beca can’t cook to save her life, so here’s poor old me trying to make due and this one like usual giving me a hard time for it. She can’t make _ice_ this one!”

It’s like a ping pong game of who can embarrass each other more. They’ve both completely disregarded that proposals are supposed to be stories that are like, _romantic_. Chloe stares at the both of them, unsure of how to react.

“Well, Aubrey dropped her ring in the curry and basically couldn’t use it, which is why I swooped in and proposed _first_. Total clutz this chick.” Beca points a thumb at Aubrey and mouths ‘blonde’.

Chloe frowns. 

The rest of the room stares in confusion until some asshole from the crowd – Tony Letterman who pissed his pants in Middle School – suggests ‘a kiss from you two ladies’. Then everyone’s agreeing with clinking noises from their glasses and woots.

Fuck.

Beca turns to Aubrey, who’s looking right back at her with a strained expression. She tries to save it.

“Okay, okay! You guys want a kiss? We’ll give you guys a kiss.” She takes Aubrey’s hand, raising it, before pressing it to her lips. “There it is!”

“Booooo. Nooo! We want a real kiss! Like you mean it!” Donald, from high school, hollers. 

Remind her to ‘accidentally’ let slip some really embarrassing information about him later.

Soon enough, the whole room is erupting with ‘ _kiss her, kiss her, kiss her’_ and all Beca can think is ‘ _kill them, kill them, kill them_ ’. She looks at Aubrey, who is laughing super nervously under her breath to cope with the cheers.

“We really doing this?” She says quietly when she and Beca step closer together.

“Just give me a peck and maybe it’ll shut them up,” Beca forces out through gritted teeth.

They peck each other on the lips, making a resounding ‘mwah’ noise just to keep the innocence of it before pulling away faster than a snap.

“What?! Boo! Come on! Real kiss!” Donald eggs on. The crowd agrees.

Beca glares at him. She’s so going to somehow reveal to everyone that he came in his pants once during a Spin the Bottle kiss with Jessica Smith in the 9th grade.

“Beca! Come on! Give her a real kiss!” Gammy urges. Even Sheila is nodding in support of that sentiment. In fact, everyone in the room seems to be getting antsy over the fact that they’re playing so coy.

“I think we really have to do this,” Beca mutters under her breath.

“Just do it really quick and get this over with,” Aubrey instructs through her strained smile.

Beca nods and they step even closer to each other. Before you know it, boom. Lips on lips for longer than second.

“Mmmmm.” Beca sounds, like it’s some fucking meal that she’s trying to convince her grandmother she likes.

“Mhm.” But Aubrey’s doing the same thing too so she feels less embarrassed.

They don’t know how much longer they have to hold it for, so Beca looks away from the crowd and to Aubrey for a sign, blue meeting blue. And just as she does, the weirdest thing happens: Beca registers that Aubrey’s lips feel _soft_. And it’s the weirdest couple of seconds where they feel pulled together without being forced. Their eyes close and they lean into each other. Beca isn’t sure if she imagines it. But just as quickly as she _thinks_ she feels it, they’re pulling away, remembering the crowd.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Okay, yeah, she swears to God she’s going to tell everyone Donald came in his pants. Even if she has to log on to Facebook and publish a status to do it.

* * *

“So… here’s your room.” Sheila reveals.

Beca watches as Aubrey take it in, from the large bed to the fireplace and the view of the lake from the connecting patio, complete with a seating area.

“It’s gorgeous. Exquisite, honestly.”

Beca wonders if she should share that she and Chloe did it for the first time in this room. Probably not. She goes over the fireplace instead and looks at the little glass knick-knacks her grandmother keeps on there, picking up a tiny cat-shaped one that Chloe once named ‘Lilo’. There’s a dog that she named ‘Stitch’ but Beca broke that one accidentally.

“Where’s Beca staying?” She hears Aubrey ask.

Sheila almost laughs. “Oh, we’re not under any illusions that you two don’t sleep in the same bed, sweetie. Beca will stay here with you.”

Beca almost breaks the glass knick-knack she was holding. “Wait, what?” She blinks. “What about the closed door rule? And the every other rule you put on me growing up in this house? Why are we all of the sudden so liberal?”

Sheila and Gammy laugh. Actually laugh.

“Well, you were in high school then, Beca. Wild little teenager. Of course we’d put rules on you. But you’re an adult now. And this is your fiancée. The room’s yours to share together.”

She almost wants to say she wishes she were back in high school but that’ll be too suspicious.

“Well, we love… snuggling,” Aubrey says, trying to save it.

Beca briefly wonders the lies help believe the bad acting. Because she and Aubrey are no Oscar winners. Especially with their hushed conversations and strained smiles.

_Bark!_

Soon after it, a small ball of white fluff comes bounding into the room, straight for Aubrey’s feet.

“Ah!” She hides behind Beca, which has Beca wondering ‘why’ because like, what is she going to do being 4 inches shorter than Aubrey? She guesses she can pick up the dog though, so she does.

“Who’s this little dude?”

“Oh, that’s Thor! We just rescued him.” Sheila smiles at the sight.

Beca ruffles its fur, holding the puppy close.

“We apologize, Aubrey. He’s still in training.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Aubrey waves off, taking a few steps away as Beca humors the dog.

“Couldn’t have doors closed, couldn’t have a dog. Now I can share room and you guys get a dog? Sheesh. Talk about the betrayal,” Beca comments, scratching behind Thor’s ear.

“Oh, we didn’t actually want one. But Chloe’s been volunteering at the shelter and she convinced us to do it. He was the only one from his litter who didn’t get adopted, poor thing,” Gammy shares.

“I wonder why,” Aubrey retorts. The dog picks up on her tone and yaps in her direction, which has her taking even more steps away.

Beca snickers.

“If you guys need any spare towels or linen, we keep them all here,” Sheila informs, opening the closet situated near the bathroom.

“And if you two get cold at night, you can use this,” Gammy suggests, pulling out a quilted blanket from the pile of folded sheets in the closet. “It has special powers,” she whispers.

“What special powers?” Aubrey humors her, carefully making her way around Beca and the dog.

“I call it the ‘Baby Maker’.” She hands it to Aubrey.

“Oh wow. Well, we’ll just make sure to keep that—” She drops it on the bench in front of the bed. “—right there.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Then Sheila announces they should ‘leave you two to it’ because it’s been a long day. She wishes them goodnight and begins to make her way out, Gammy following suit.

“Come along, Thor,” Gammy tells him.

Beca puts Thor down and watches as he runs and trips then gets backs up and follows the two women out. When they finally hear the door shut and click, that’s when Beca and Aubrey exhale.

“You’re taking the floor,” Aubrey is quick to say.

“Wow, not even a ‘ _so I should take the bed_ ’? Just straight-up ‘ _you’re taking the floor_ ’? Love that. So giving, so kind. Can’t wait for all of the take and take of our marriage.”

Aubrey picks up the Baby Maker and throws it at Beca.

“This shit won’t even work on us by the way,” Beca argues after she pulls it off her head, hair mused.

* * *

So as per Aubrey’s demand (because it wasn’t even a suggestion), Beca takes the floor in her _own_ house. Since no one’s going to use the Baby Maker and it so happens to be the thickest sheet available in the linen closet, Beca uses it as a mattress, soft padding from the hardwood floor. She takes one pillow from the bed and uses the throw that’s on there for show as a blanket. She settles into her ‘bed’.

“So, you haven’t been home in a while,” she hears Aubrey say from the bathroom.

“Haven’t had a lot of vacation time,” Beca points out.

And though she can’t see Aubrey, Beca knows she just rolled her eyes.

“Oh don’t complain,” she hears Aubrey mutter, closer this time, so she assumes she pulled open the door from the bathroom.

The next thing she hears is: “Beca? Um, close your eyes for a moment.”

“You don’t sleep in the nude do you?” Beca wisecracks.

“Oh shut up. Just don’t look, okay?”

“Okay.” Beca not-so-promises, eyes on the ceiling.

She hears the door being pulled open and quick steps on the floor next. She tilts her head back to catch a glimpse of Aubrey scurrying into bed.

“ _Those_ are the pajamas you chose to bring to _Alaska_?”

Aubrey groans. “ _Yes_. Because I was supposed to be in a hotel – _alone_. Remember?”

Beca sighs, exhausted. “Can we just—go to sleep?”

“Fine.”

“ _Great._ ”

“ _Stupendous_.”

“ _Awesome_.”

Beca settles back and closes her eyes, trying to find peace despite knowing that she’s essentially sleeping with a demon three feet away from her. She can hear Aubrey moving around the bed a bit before she settles. And just when she thinks Aubrey has settled, she moves again.

She grunts. “What? What is it?”

“It’s hard to sleep with the sun—”

Beca lifts up a small remote then and clicks, which activates the curtains and makes them close on their own accord.

“Better?”

“I— Yes, actually.”

“Good. Goodnight.”

“Um… Goodnight.”

It’s silent for a moment and then Aubrey says, “thank you.”

It’s weird. Beca doesn’t know what to say to that – not because it’s a ‘thank you’ but because it’s a ‘thank you’ from _Aubrey_. It’s in her upbringing to always reply to shit like that though, so she goes with, “Uh yeah, whatever.” 

Because _that’s_ totally sound.

Instead of agonizing over it, Beca simply turns on her side and tries to sleep, wondering what disaster tomorrow will bring or if it will bring disaster at all.

This is going to be the longest weekend of her _life_.

* * *

It’s dark. Quiet. _Peaceful._ And Beca wants it to remain that way. But that’s kind of difficult when the first thing she hears in the morning other than pure silence is Aubrey’s voice.

_Beca! Beca! Beca, wake up!_

She’d rather get waken up by death metal— Something soft slams into her face.

“Ow!” She pulls it off. “What the hell?!” She grumbles.

It takes her a second – because she was fucking sleeping – but she eventually registers it: the sound of knocking and the unmistakable ‘yoohoo, I got breakfast for you lovebirds’ from Sheila from the other side of the door.

“ _Shit_.” Beca scrambles to get up.

“Get up here! C’mon, c’mon,” Aubrey whisper-yells.

“Jesus, chill. I’m going, I’m going—”

She snatches up the makings of her ‘bed’ and throws them on the bed, feeling a little bit of gladness when it lands on Aubrey before the blonde pulls it off with an honest-to-God growl.

“You’re a dick,” Aubrey says once Beca slides into the bed.

“Well, you’re no morning angel either, dude. Scooch.”

“What? We can’t be 5 feet from each other, we have to at least look like we’re in love. If your parents don’t buy it, how will Kramer?”

“Fine.”

They scoot and tug and adjust until the knocking becomes more persistent and they finally have to yell ‘come in’.  When Sheila walks in, there are pleasant smiles on Beca and Aubrey’s faces and they’re leaning into each other, sat against the headboard.

“Good morning, you two,” Sheila greets, coming in with a tray of what looks to be waffles and a pot of something hot. Beca hopes it’s coffee but she knows this house transitioned to tea a while ago. She sets it down on the small table closest to the bed.

“Oh, Sheila, you didn’t have to.” 

Aubrey sounds sickeningly sweet and it makes Beca’s blood run cold. Sitting beside her, she almost believes it. She tries not to squint at her “fiancée” however because that’s not on the approved ‘in love’ behavior list.

“Yeah, Sheils. Seriously, it’s—We could’ve made our way out for breakfast.”

“Oh hush. There’s also a double purpose to this breakfast-in-bed sitch.”

“Oh no, you’re not gonna make us tend to your plants are ya?” Beca jokes, but she’s also serious.

“Oh, I know better than to let you near my flowers, Beca.”

Beca catches the tiny lift of the corner of Aubrey’s mouth.

“This is actually an apology breakfast.”

“Oh?” It surprises the both of them that they say the same thing but they’re quickly shaking their heads to look at Sheila.

“Unfortunately, I completely forgot I have to take Gammy to hospital for a check-up – nothing serious, just a mandatory thing. And your father’s already gone to make his rounds at the shops, so I won’t be able to show you around just yet.”

“Ohhh.”

“So I was thinking, Beca honey, you can show Aubrey around the house and the property. We have canoes, rowboats. You can go for a nice walk in the woods. If you like golf, Aubrey, Beca’s dad has this little… island hole thing.”

Beca almost laughs. Aubrey’s forehead creases before she’s smiling anyway, thanking Sheila.

“Well, we actually have to get going which is why I wanted to drop this off. We have fruits and yogurt in the fridge if you’re more of a healthy gal like me, Aubrey. I just know Beca loves her waffles.”

“Oh of course, I’ll help myself. Our special Beca over here, such a waffle monster.” Aubrey runs her hand up and down Beca’s arm.

It feels weird for a second but then Beca thinks it actually feels kind of… nice? She smiles at Sheila as she wishes them goodbye once more before making her way out. Then she moves her arm out of Aubrey’s reach once the door shuts.

“That was close.” Aubrey exhales.

“Mhm.” Beca pulls back the sheets and gets out of bed, making her way around it to see what’s in the pot. Eh, tea. “It’s tea. You want it?”

“You don’t drink tea?”

“More of a coffee person.” Beca is pouring Aubrey a cup and handing it to her before she even realizes what she’s doing.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.”

Confused herself, it takes Aubrey a second before she’s accepting the cup from Beca. She blows on it carefully before she takes a sip. A sort of calm washes over her face and then she rests against the headboard again.

Beca doesn’t know why she’s staring. She shakes her head and tells Aubrey she calls dibs on the bathroom before grabbing clothes out of her luggage and disappearing into said room to get ready for the day.

* * *

When she gets out of the bathroom dressed in a plaid red shirt and some dark jeans, she finds Aubrey on the patio just outside of the room. She has this soft pink robe over her lingerie from last night and she’s watching the water, mug of tea in her hands.

Beca clears her throat before walking over to tap on the glass, gesturing to Aubrey that the bathroom is ready for her now.

Beca doesn’t know why she thinks this but Aubrey looks almost non-threatening with the soft sunlight of the morning hitting her like that. No makeup, no insanely tight ponytail. Her face is bare, her hair falls gently past her shoulders, and she just looks… normal. Like a normal human being. And it’s kind of nice almost, that she can look like that.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Aubrey asks after she’s shut the door to the patio behind her. And it surprises Beca that Aubrey can say that without sounding at all demanding. It’s like… normal sounding? And a little confused but… cute. Wow, Beca didn’t think she could use that word to ever describe something Aubrey did at all.

“Beca?”

“I’m— What?”

“You’re staring.”

“Oh. I was just—you look… human.”

That makes Aubrey roll her eyes and it’s enough to snap Beca out of whatever daze the morning sun of Alaska put on her. Jesus, it might have even been mini heart attack if she was in here thinking Aubrey looked normal and sounded cute.

“Love our morning talks, _honey_.” Aubrey pushes the now-empty mug towards Beca before walking past her and slamming the door behind her.

“Definitely a mini heart attack,” Beca says to herself, shaking her head.

She puts the mug on the tray and brings it with her on the way to the kitchen.

* * *

The waffles have gone cold by the time she was out of the shower and ready for her day. She pops them into the microwave and places Aubrey’s used mug into the sink. She stares at her own – her Portland mug. Sheila knows it’s her preferred mug when she visits (during her college years, she hasn’t been back since she’s left for work). Tapping her fingers against the counter, she contemplates whether or not she should just have tea instead. Even though, fuck tea. It basically tastes like a couple blades of glass someone tossed in hot water. 

“No,” she decides and begins her hunt for coffee.

She knows Sheila made this a tea household a year or two back when she decided to be all healthy and shit but there’s no way her dad didn’t stash some coffee in here somewhere. There’s not much Beca and her father agree on, but they’re both coffee fanatics. And she’ll be damned if she has to spend the morning touring Aubrey around without a drop of coffee in her.

She scours the cupboards and cabinets, looking behind food and the house’s extensive mug collection. (Sheila and her dad like to collect mugs from every place they’re been.) Beca even looks inside the ‘ _everything is bigger in Texas’_ mug because it’s large enough to hide something in. But much to her dismay, there’s something in it.

She’s on the counter looking through the higher cupboards when Aubrey walks into the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day.

“What are you doing?”

Beca probably looks like a fucking raccoon on the counter, sifting through all of the belongings in her parents’ home.

“Lookin’ for coffee,” she mutters, growing increasingly annoyed the longer she goes without her sweet, sweet nectar.

“Beca, you look ridiculous. Based on everything Sheila told me last night about her new ‘healthy lifestyle’, I doubt you’ll find coffee anywhere in here.”

Beca groans. “Why does she have to punish everyone in this house for something only she’s doing?”

“I heard your father’s agreed to it as well.” 

“Wait, what?”

Aubrey gets a yogurt from the fridge, peeling back the aluminum lid once she rests it on the counter. “Yeah, she mentioned something about getting him to commit to it because of his health or something. Apparently he agreed to it so he could have red meat on the weekends. It was a compromise.”

Beca sighs, her shoulders dropping. Well, that settles it. Her dad lost his balls and she’s out for any chance of coffee. Beca sits on the counter and slides off.

“Please wipe that entire area down; you have no idea how much germs are on your socks.” Aubrey makes a face.

Beca rolls her eyes mockingly while she slips her boots back on. Then she grabs the surface cleaner out from the cabinet under the sink and something to wipe the counters down. Her scour wasn’t a total waste; she now knows where things are in her home, at least in the kitchen. 

“Well, I’m gonna die at least two hours into today without coffee so get ready for that.”

“If we’re lucky, your mother will be back by then. Don’t worry, I’ll keep myself busy if she’s not.”

Beca just nods, wiping down everything she climbed on. Not to appease Aubrey – obviously – but like, just to be clean too.

“So, where are we starting this tour?” Aubrey ask, tossing her yogurt container into the trash just as Beca finishes wiping down all of the counters she stepped on – with her fresh, new, _clean_ socks so it wasn’t even that dirty to begin with.

“Uh, I guess I’ll show you around the house then we’ll work our way out.” 

Aubrey nods. Beca turns on the tap and washes her hands. She goes to the microwave to pull out her waffles but because of her scouring, she completely forgot about it and it’s gone cold… again. Beca sighs before putting it back in for a minute.

“Those aren’t gonna taste as good coming out.”

“I’m aware.” 

Beca grumbles unintelligibly before getting orange juice from the fridge and pouring it into a glass from the cupboard above her. She drinks it with a scowl on her face.

“Wow, is this no-coffee Beca? Such a delight.” 

She’s enjoying this and Beca doesn’t like it one bit. She lifts her hand to flip Aubrey off, completely forgetting for a second there that Aubrey isn’t just her fake fiancée but also her boss. Before she has time to regret it though, Aubrey is just smirking right back and saying ‘mature’ before poking into the bowl of sliced fruit she’s taken out from the fridge.

The microwave dings.

* * *

Beca walks while she talks.

“So you’ve basically seen the downstairs stuff. Living room, den, dining, kitchen, dad’s office, library. It’s full of all the crap my dad used to teach when he was a professor at Barden.”

“Barden University?”

“Yeah? Why, you went there?”

“Oh no, I was educated at Columbia but it was almost a choice.”

Of course, Aubrey went to some big named college. 

“Anyway, there’s what my dad calls the ‘mud room’. Basically where we take off our boots and shit if we’ve come from outside when the ground’s all wet. We also keep jackets in here, summer stuff in all cupboards. Not much down here unless you want the E! True Hollywood story about all of the chinaware my grandma has displayed in the shelf thing in the kitchen.”

“Breakfront,” Aubrey corrects her.

“Breakfront. Whatever. Like the thing you stole from Bumper’s office.”

Aubrey narrows her eyes at Beca and Beca smirks.

“Moving on: Gammy’s room right there. This is a smaller guest room down the hall from ours unless they’ve changed it. This is supposed to be a supply closet where they keep the vacuum – again, unless they’ve changed it. Laundry room’s down in the basement. You can through this door. Don’t worry – to my knowledge, my grandmother moved the dead bodies she had down there to the woods.”

“Charming.” Aubrey rolls her eyes.

“Aaaaand I guess that’s it. Guess we go up?” Beca doesn’t leave a moment for Aubrey to answer. “Good, let’s go.” She bounds up the stairs, Aubrey trailing slowly behind her.

* * *

Beca’s tour of the house is rushed and lacking. If she didn’t know any better, Aubrey was actually really into her house and all of its little details – details that Beca failed to give on more than one occasion. She notices Aubrey linger outside of rooms for a second longer before following after Beca. She wonders what it is. Maybe Aubrey’s just not used to seeing a house that’s actually lived in because she’s accustomed to her four white walls and charging port.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Aubrey says as they walk across the deep green lawn.

Beca looks at the water, the mountains, the clouds in the sky that provide perfect shade, and she has to agree.

“It’s got its perks. Can drive you insane living here sometimes though.” Beca kicks at the grass. “All of the quiet. Not to mention the very small population so everyone knows you.”

“And that bothers you?”

“People I’ve never even heard of have opinions about what I wanted to do.” She shakes her head. “Let’s just say New York was a dream and I don’t care how much of a shit city it is.”

Beca has to give it to Aubrey: for all of the jabs she makes about her being a robot, she understands how to pick up on tone and read body language – an obvious skill she needs to have what with being in the industry, making deals and recruiting talent, but… It’s nice to be on the receiving end of Aubrey’s professionalism because she just nods and drops it, making some comment about it being a lovely day for tee off.

“You can use my dad’s other clubs. He won like 3 different golf bags. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

So that’s their day: a hasty tour of her home and its grounds and what feels like hours watching Aubrey whack golf balls, trying to land it on her dad’s ‘island hole’ as Sheila put it.

It’s not at all boring – which surprises her (she normally hates watching her dad play). But watching Aubrey play is different. You can tell she has a strategy and that each hit that misses is just one way of doing things that hasn’t worked. So she keeps trying. She tries and tries until eventually, she just keeps landing it on the island and then one of them ultimately make it on the hole.

That’s how Sheila finds them when she and Gammy make it back: Aubrey trying to replicate her success and Beca sitting on the grass watching her with headphones on.

“Oh, well, hello you two—”

Aubrey fucks up her swing and it makes Beca frown, taking her headphones off to look into the direction she’s now looking towards.

“Oh, Sheila. Hey. I had no idea you guys were back.” Beca gets up to greet her grandma in a hug.

“That’s because those things are on your head, honey. You’re gonna go deaf one day, you know,” her grandma says.

“It’ll be worth it.” Beca winks.

“Aubrey, you’re doing wonderfully. Have you made it in yet?”

“A couple of times,” Aubrey says, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

“Oh, well, you’re so good. John would love to play against you I’m sure. He’s always looking for someone to best him.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Aubrey says something charming or polite but she doesn’t really care – her dad’s not even here but just mentioning him has her irritated. She looks at her phone and takes note of the time.

“Oh shit, it’s lunch. Or like past lunch. We should eat.” She’s already heading inside, grandma at her arm.

“Oh, just make yourself something light, Becs!” Sheila calls out. “We’re going somewhere with an all-you-can-eat-buffet once we put on a change of clothes.”

Beca looks behind her and she and Aubrey share a look of confusion. Her grandma chuckles almost deviously beside her, and she’s actually worried about where they’re going now.

* * *

It looks to be some bar. From the outside, it’s all decked out to look like some wooden shack, which is a little unsettling. For once, Beca feels Aubrey is person she can trust in a group of the four of them. And then a very familiar redhead pushes through the doors and greets them with a ‘you guys made it’ and Beca doesn’t think that anymore.

“Chloe?”

She feels Chloe hug her before she can say anything else. But she’s not special because Chloe gives a hug to everyone, including Aubrey. She takes a sip from the margarita she’s holding after. From the looks out of it, it’s definitely not Chloe’s first margarita. This is Two Margaritas Chloe. Maybe three.

“I got us a table with a view of the stage. Let’s go, ladies!”

They’re being ushered inside. Chloe bounces with an energy that Beca doesn’t understand. That margarita must be rimmed with sugar and not salt for her to be acting this way. She can’t possibly be this excited over an all-you-can-eat buffet inside of some slightly-large wooden shack.

The inside isn’t that special either. It’s decorated like a one-legged pirate lives here. Blue and white striped lifebuoys adorn the wall. There’s an anchor and some decorative rope too. Who knew rope could be decorative? There’s lots of framed photos of fishermen and their catches as well. It’s not the most sightly of décor but it’s very ‘Alaska’.

“Becs! Come here. You can sit next to Aubrey.”

Beca just nods, following and sitting where Chloe wants her to sit. She’s taken more sips out of the margarita than Beca has taken steps. Beca’s a little worried about Chloe’s pace. She hopes the redhead has gotten into the all-you-can-eat buffet with an appetite for alcohol like that.

“Chlo, are you okay?” She asks once seated, not missing the way Aubrey’s eyes drift to them.

“I’m fine, I’m great.” Chloe waves her off, finishing her drink and promptly ordering another one. “So! Bibs are on the table. Buffet table's over there. Let’s get to lunchin’, ladies!”

* * *

Shrimp is fine. Shrimp is totally okay. Beca doesn’t consider it to be the worst food but she doesn’t consider it to be the best either. And it feels like shrimp is a lot of the selection at this place. Fried shrimp, shrimp with chili and garlic, shrimp in sauce. If it’s not shrimp, it’s fish. And there’s like a really out of place serving of meatballs towards the end of the offerings. It’s safe to say Beca sticks to the shrimp and fish.

She’s only two plates in and she’s out. The PB&J she made herself before heading out helped her plenty before food was actually served. Chloe’s on her third. Sheila sticks to the healthier options of shrimp and fish but she’s also on her second. Grammy only has had one plate but Sheila packed it heavy and it’s still only half-way done. Beca thinks Aubrey hasn’t made it past her first plate either.

She leans over. “Not a big shrimp fan?”

Aubrey swallows what she’s chewing. “It’s a little overwhelming how many ways someone can prepare shrimp. Everything tastes the same though, it’s super weird.”

Beca chuckles quietly before sitting back. She notices Chloe staring at her when she does.

They look at each other, having one of those conversations where they don’t talk. She knows Chloe wants to ask her things. Beca wants to ask her things too. But then Chloe just sort of smiles at her in a way that she doesn’t understand and looks away, wiping at her mouth. Beca almost wants to lean over and ask her what it is but Sheila is quickly telling everyone to ‘buckle up’ and ‘get ready for the big show’.

“It’s Sitka’s best kept secret,” Chloe tells the table with a wink.

The lights dim. The ladies in the room begin to applaud. It’s then Beca notices that there are only women in the bar. The unmistakable opening of Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s Relax starts to play.

When the single spotlight shines on a lone chair on the stage, Beca’s eyes widen, knowing exactly what this is about to be. Those familiar beats of Relax have never sounded dirtier to her ears.

“Hang tight, Becs. You’re in for a treat!”

“Oh, Aubrey. You’re gonna love this!”

* * *

If you told Beca that Luke Matthews – a guy she used to have a crush on in high school – would be shaking his ass on stage in a scanty tuxedo outfit 5 five feet from her face, she would have told you that you were crazy. Well, joke’s on Beca because that’s exactly what’s happening.

Luke Matthews: former running back, former lead vocalist of the high school rock band that she was in love with.

On stage. Crab position. Thrusting his hips into the air.

Beca can’t believe she had a crush on this dude.

“Whoo!!!” Chloe shoots her hands up in the air.

Beca’s eyes widen when she notices there are bills in them. She scans down the table. 

Her step mom: enjoying this.

Gammy: really enjoying this.

Aubrey: really confused but hopefully just as horrified as she is.

Beca leans towards her. “Are you okay?”

“I swear this was the same man who served me a canapé yesterday.” Aubrey’s eyes never leave the stage, staring at it in a way someone stares at a nasty car crash at an intersection.

Beca shrugs a little. “Yeah, Luke works for my dad, so he’s kind of freelance. I had no idea he was doing this kind of stuff now though— Whoa!”

Luke is off stage. Hand on her. Beckoning her to come on stage and sit on the chair.

“What? No. No. Never in my life. You can forget it, dude.” She chuckles. “You’ve got the wrong crowd member, man. You should go for someone else. They’d enjoy it more.” She insists.

Luke pouts at her, his hips constantly moving – rolling, thrusting, whatever.

Again, she can’t believe she used to have a crush on this guy.

Chloe slips a bill in his underwear, smacking his ass. He makes an ‘O’ face, wiggling his booty before dancing over to Aubrey. This takes Beca’s attention.

She watches as Aubrey leans away once she knows Luke’s hip thrusting will be directed at her. Her grandmother is waving bills at Luke, which she eventually just throws at him and he catches them, rubbing them all over his oiled-body.

Beca almost gags when she smells it. It’s definitely a kind of Johnson’s baby oil.

Sheila is egging Aubrey to take Luke’s hand and be led to stage.

“Come on! You’re getting married! One last bit of fun can’t hurt!”

“Come on, sweetie! Let the handsome man dance on you!” Gammy urges.

“Let’s go, Bree, you got this!” Chloe cheers.

Beca’s forgotten how familiar Chloe can seem with people. And she knows for a fact that Chloe’s only interacted with Aubrey when she’s around, so the way she lets the nickname ‘Bree’ roll so casually off of her tongue and sound completely convincing kind of surprises her. Beca doesn’t think she’s ever called Aubrey a nickname since they’ve been here. She should probably work on that.

By the time Beca tunes back in, Luke has Aubrey’s hands and he’s leading her to the stage.

Oh no. How did that happen? 

She sees her Gammy out of her chair, waving them away, and she thinks she understands how.

Aubrey stares at her, wide-eyed and head shaking. Beca would help but at this point it’ll probably ruin the fun of everyone in this room, so she just lifts her shoulder and makes a face, mouthing ‘sorry’.

Watching Luke thrust his junk at Aubrey for 5 minutes is weirdly the highlight of her trip back home.

* * *

“Whew. Well, that was _something_.” 

Beca, Aubrey, and Chloe have excused themselves to breathe after Luke’s performance on stage. Or rather, performance on _Aubrey_. Beca tugs at her shirt, hoping for the cold Alaskan air to cool her from the heat radiating off of all of the middle-age thirst monsters in there.

Aubrey still has a hand to her chest, trying to process as she knocks back what Beca thinks is her second margarita since coming off of stage. Chloe sees her downing her drink and follows suit in the spirit of what this is: a lowkey bachelorette party.

“Whoo! Gosh, that was so great! I hope you enjoyed, Aubrey. Luke’s one of the hidden treasures of this town.”

Beca scoffs lightly behind her own margarita, sipping it. She feels Chloe hipcheck her. 

“Oh don’t play coy, Becs. You know you had a crush on him.”

“ _Had_ ,” she emphasizes. “Besides, that all came to an end when we—” She stops herself, looking at Chloe then Aubrey. She’s quick to change the topic. “Anyway, it was news for like a second.”

She can tell Chloe picked up on her faux pas. And Chloe, despite all of the time and distance between them, has her back like always and keeps it light.

“News for like a week. A couple at most.” She winks kindly.

Beca smiles at her. Then she remembers Aubrey is there and clears her throat, moving away from Chloe and taking a sip from her drink. Thankfully, her phone vibrates in her pocket so she fishes it out to see the text she just received. It’s something for Jesse. About a work thing. He’s frantic and in total need of a bail. Beca sighs and types out a text to him.

“Uh guys, hate to have to cut this short, but I have to head back home and do something on my laptop. Jesse needs help.”

“Who’s Jesse?” Chloe asks.

And Beca remembers they haven’t spoken in 3 years. 

“Oh. Um. Yeah. He’s… a work friend.”

Before Beca and Chloe could get further into their little moment of catch-up, Aubrey is speaking. “Wait, no. I want to go back too.”

Beca smirks then. “No, no, _honey_. You have to stay here. With Chloe. And Gams and Sheila. I’m pretty sure they still have a whole day planned out for you.” She winks.

Aubrey lets out a scoff. “But—Beca!”

She’s already making her way down the steps of the bar. “Take care of my lady for me, Chlo!”

It’s weird to say that but at the same time not. Because she and Chloe haven’t spoken in ages and it’s not like they still have feelings for each other. They’re both being very civil.

Chloe shouts back. “No worries! We’ll keep her safe!”

Beca throws a hand up and waves but doesn’t look back. She shoots a text to Sheila about her having to go. ‘Important Work Thing’ she makes sure to mention.

* * *

When she gets home, she plans to make a beeline for her room to get her laptop out and help Jesse with the track he sent her. Unlike her, Jesse’s boss is kinder and asks for his opinion with things. But that’s beside the point. He needs her help and—

_Whack!_

Beca’s head darts to the noise. She sees her father standing right where Aubrey once was, hitting balls that land right into the water.

He notices her making her way in on the dock and waves her over. Despite herself, Beca obliges. She digs her hands into the pockets of the hoodie she has on as she makes her way down.

“Hey, Dad.”

_Whack!_

“Sheila found these… eco-balls. They dissolve in water.” _Whack!_ “I don’t know how she comes up with this stuff.” 

Beca just nods, hoping she can go in soon.

“Anyway, she’s a little… _peeved_ —” Because there’s no way her father would admit Sheila was upset with him. “—about the way I acted yesterday. Apparently, I wasn’t the most gracious of hosts last night.”

Beca shrugs, not wanting to get into it. Her dad puts his golf-playing on pause, leaning against club.

“It was just a bit of a shock, you see. To find out you were getting married. Especially when none of us knew you were even _dating_.”

The way he says it pisses Beca off. She’s just about to move away and leave this conversation when he continues.

“The point is—” He sighs. “I owe you an apology.” 

That has Beca staying.

He extends his hand. “I shouldn’t have acted that way.”

Beca is surprised by this behavior. It must be something Sheila’s been making him do since there was no way his dad would ever vocalize his feelings, much more initiate an apology, in a million years. 

Though skeptical, she takes his hand. 

“Accepted.” Because it’s not ‘okay’ but she will take the apology.

Her dad goes on. “There’s something else. I’ve been going over my retirement plans recently…”

Beca watches her dad with careful eyes.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life, Becs. Practically built an empire from the ground up since we moved out here. It doesn’t mean anything unless…”

“You have someone to leave it to,” she finishes for him. “I know, dad. We’ve been over this.”

“Well, I’d like to go over it _again_ ,” her father insists, like he usually does when he knows Beca is aware of where the conversation is going. “You have responsibilities _here_ , Bec.”

She watches him with a sigh.

“I think I’ve been… more than understanding about you goofing off in New York. I need to you stop playing around and—”

“Jesus, here we go again.” She shakes her head. “When are you going to take what I do seriously?”

“When you start _acting_ actually seriously, Beca.”

“You know what, Dad? I feel sorry for you. I really do.” She puts her hands together. “I really, sincerely wish you had another kid. One that wanted to stay here and take over your businesses but I’m—that’s not me.” She shakes her head. “It’s not.”

She lets a beat past between them before continuing on.

“My life in New York? Sitting in an office, listening to demos… _that’s_ what makes me happy. I know you don’t understand it, but… it’s what I want to do.”

She looks at him. Really looks at him. This is the reason she doesn’t like to come back home. The reason she detests ever mentioning her life at Sitka. Every time she and her father see each other, it’s the same issue brought up over and over again.

“Well, if that’s what makes you happy, Bec… then I have nothing to say.”

She scoffs, nodding. “Well, that’s a first.” Tears well up in her eyes. “You know what? Apology not accepted. Have fun out here.”

She walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me @ bsnows.tumblr.com if you wanna holla 'bout this fic


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